Bunch of Troublemakers
by whathobertie
Summary: Terry is interested in learning more about Gillian Foster. Or Cal and Gillian for that matter. Missing scene from 'Grievous Bodily Harm'. Cal/Gillian implied, humor.


**TITLE:** Bunch of Troublemakers**  
GENRE:** Humor**  
CHARACTERS:** Cal, Terry Marsh**  
PAIRING:** Cal/Gillian implied**  
RATING:** PG-13**  
SPOILERS:** None**  
WORDS:** 650**  
SUMMARY:** Terry is interested in learning more about Gillian Foster. Or Cal and Gillian for that matter. Missing scene from _'Grievous Bodily Harm'_.

* * *

Terry Marsh. Ex-partner in crime. Current pain in the arse.

He's just met Foster and is now ruining his day. A day that started out so well. Except for the finance talk maybe, but that was more playful than painful for once. Cal probably doesn't want to know what exactly Terry is dragging him into right now. It would just spoil his formerly excellent mood further.

He should be some kind of happy meeting an old friend again after all those years. Somebody that basically used to be attached to him like another limb. Somebody with whom he shares so much history. Somebody he owes a big one. But with him; it is trouble just waiting to happen. He can feel it. God, he smells it around the next corner already.

For now they are leaving the office. Fast. Terry is trailing beside him, like he used to.

"So are you sleeping with her?" he asks blatantly.

"What? No!" His eyes are narrowing. He thinks about how he probably jumped to the conclusion that he was talking about Foster a little too quickly. Maybe he means Torres. Probably not.

"But you want to."

He presses the button for the elevator to come. Fiercely. "We work together, you git."

Terry gives a little shrug of his shoulders. "Doesn't mean you can't shag her. Some of the best action between the sheets—or maybe you still prefer storage closets in public places—is coming out of dirty, little, off-limits hanky-panky things like that. Don't you remember?"

"What, with the two of us? Can't remember us sleeping together." He presses the elevator button again.

"But we came as close to that as it gets." It's followed by an annoying wink.

"If I were gay, you would be the last on my list of people I would ever sleep with. Seriously." The bloody elevator doors open. Finally. He sincerely hopes they won't get stuck in it. For eternity or something.

Terry follows him into the constricted space. "But she's the first one on your straight list of people you wanna do the deed with, isn't she? Well, she would be on mine. Can't blame you."

Now it's getting out of control. "Oi, that's my friend you're talking about."

"Just one minute ago she was somebody you work with, now she's your _friend_ already. Are you sure you're not sleeping with her? On lonely Friday evenings maybe? After stirring, emotionally draining cases? Just for the fun of it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you very much."

He seems to think about that for a while. Almost enough time for them to arrive at the lobby and for the doors to open again. "So I can conclude that she's available then? Even after this little charade in your office just now? I mean, no ring."

"She's out of your league, mate."

"Oh, so she's out of yours as well?"

The doors finally open. Fresh air. Also the possibility to throw him under a bus once they're out on the street. "Stop talking. Where are we going?"

"Sore spot, eh?"

"Where the fuck are we going?" he tries again, even though ignoring him proves to be an impossible task. What has happened to this beautiful day?

"God Cal, I don't remember you being so uptight."

"I don't remember you being so bloody annoying. And that's saying something."

Terry playfully pats him on the back. "I'm just kidding, Cal. For old times' sake." He grins this huge and impressively charming grin. Before it disappears again as fast as it came. "But you do wanna sleep with her, right?"

"Just stop it."

"I can understand. Totally. And I will respect your—_obviously_—secret desire to sleep with her and back off. But just in case, you know, you lose interest or anything goes wrong, give me a call. Preferably sooner than in 22 years from now." Another casual shrug and some nonchalant arm movements.

"Tosser."

And then they go off to get into trouble. Just like they used to.

**THE END**


End file.
